


Post-Traumatic Hell Disorder

by Wolfcry22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Brotherly Love, Dean Winchester Has Issues, Dean Winchester Has PTSD, Fireworks, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Panic Attacks, Post-Hell, Post-Hell Dean Winchester, Post-Purgatory (Supernatural), Post-Purgatory Dean Winchester, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam Winchester Has PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25091662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcry22/pseuds/Wolfcry22
Summary: Dean struggles with his experiences from Hell and Purgatory and it’s only exasperated by the fireworks going off down the street for the 4th of July. Sam, being the brother that is, does anything that he can to help his brother. (Post season 9)
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 61





	Post-Traumatic Hell Disorder

**Author's Note:**

> So, I know 4th of July was the other day and summer in itself often means fireworks. They are a staple of festivities and that’s okay. I decided to write this for everyone out there that doesn’t enjoy fireworks whether it be because of PTSD such as those that had served in the military, those with autism and sensory processing disorders, or just those with anxiety that don’t enjoy the loud noise or bright colors. I myself despise fireworks for that reason and am often ridiculed because of it by friends and family. I thought that I’d write something to help me process my own struggle with it and for those that struggle the same way that I do. Know that I see you and I know that it’s not easy, but you’re not alone.
> 
> Mild warning for language and some violence depicted as well as panic attacks and PTSD episodes.

Dean laid awake with his legs outstretched on the rock hard motel bed. He was gazing at the TV, eyes already drifting closed. It was nearly 10 at night, which was relatively early for him to even think about going to bed, but he had been up with Sam the entire night before, scouting out a vamp nest. Sam had insisted that they come back to the motel for some sleep and food before heading back out to scout the best vantage point to eliminate them. Dean had been reluctant, but he had struggled to keep his eyes open and barely managed to drive the Impala back to the motel without crashing, so he decided that Sam may be right. 

Just when Dean was about to drift off to sleep, a harsh boom echoed through the room. Dean was on his feet in a moment as another loud explosion seemed to shake the ground underneath him. Breath quickening, Dean began to pace back and forth with eyes wide and frightened. 

Instead of the motel, Dean could only see dark room in front of him, chains tearing into his flesh to keep him off the floor. The screams from nearby cells was seared into his mind as well as the smell of blood that coated the air like a thick cloud. Agony pulsed through his body as Alastair stood in front of him with every destructive mode of torture laid out in front of him. He grinned wickedly, leaning toward Dean with a branding pole gripped firmly in his hand. A knife twirled in his free hand, snapping against the metal chains above Dean’s head. Each strike was loud, causing Dean to wince away only to have the chains tug on his flesh. A moan left his lips as he prepared for another assault of pain to surge through him.

“Dean!”

Dean was barely aware of what he was doing. With each new explosion it sent him further and further into the depths of his mind where the years spent in Hell and Purgatory collided. He was scarcely aware of his hand trailing up to his neck, scratching almost ritualistically. His free hand was balled into a fist and kept striking at his thigh, eyes wild and frightened like a caged animal. He paced in a tight circle at the front of the room, hitting the door with his shoulder before propelling himself in the opposite direction only to repeat the process again.

Sam saw the distinct change in his brother despite being just as tired as Dean. He lifted off of the bed and walked around to Dean to see his gaze already unfocused. His lips moved, yet no words were forced from them. Whatever his mind thought, his body was reacting in another way; he was guarded and ready for an attack. 

“Dean,” Sam repeated this time much calmer. He chose to keep his distance to the best of his ability with an outstretched hand toward Dean without touching it. Sometimes unannounced touch could transport him right back there. “Dean, can you hear me?” 

Just when it seemed Dean may be starting to pull out of it, another thunderous explosion followed by a screeching whizzing sound made Dean stop dead in his tracks. He immediately dropped to the ground and pressed himself into the corner of the room, knees brought up and hugging his chest, arms wrapped around his head so that his hands were thrust over his ears. 

“Sammy, get down,” Dean hollered in his brother’s general direction. 

Sam was taken aback by the sudden authority in his brother’s voice. Dean only got this way on a hunt, especially when his brother was in danger. “Dean, it’s okay. It’s just us.” 

Dean wasn’t listening. His eyes blazed in fury when he looked back to Sam. “Get down!” 

When Sam still didn’t react, Dean took matters into his own hands. With a bunch of his muscles, Dean leapt for Sam. He slammed into him and brought him to the ground with Dean on top of him. His knee was pressed against Sam’s back while his hands were pressing Sam’s head so that it was pressing against the ground. Sam was so stunned that he couldn’t react for a few moments.

“Dean,” Sam grunted painfully. “What the Hell?”

“Shut up,” snarled Dean. “The djinn might hear us.” 

“The djinn? Dean, there’s no djinn. It’s just us in this crappy motel room.”

Dean’s eyes momentarily glazed over as tension released from flexed muscles. It seemed that he was gradually understanding what happened until another crashing sound echoed around them. The sound like that of gunfire going on was next, even having Sam slightly flinch at it. 

A moan escaped Dean’s lips with his eyes narrowed to slits. He kept his weight pressed firmly on Sam, using his own body to shield his brother from whatever horrible attack may be coming their way. 

Sam managed to stretch his legs on the side, rolling on his hip. He arched his spine and pushed Dean from him so that he could sit upright. He swiveled around to look at Dean, noticing that his brother was pushing himself back into the corner. As soon as another rumble shook the walls, Dean tightened his hands over his ears. 

“Fireworks,” Sam suddenly recalled in rage. He couldn’t believe he didn’t realize it earlier. It was the summer, and not only that, but it was the 4th of July. That meant people across the United States were having exuberant displays with hundreds even thousands of dollars worth of fireworks to launch into the sky. 

There had been a time when Sam and Dean had enjoyed it and even set some off when they were younger. However, that was a long time ago. Things had happened since them such as all the trauma they went through. Dean and Sam had both been to Hell and Dean to Purgatory, not to mention all the other shit they hunted on a daily basis. That was enough to send anyone screaming in the other direction. It brought on nightmares and flashbacks that neither brother enjoyed talking about. They had found makeshift ways to control it and stuff it down such as alcohol and sleep deprivation. It worked marginally well until something as triggering as fireworks decided to rear it’s ugly head. Then all bets were off. 

A particularly loud firework followed by fierce whistling from an array of different fireworks was enough to send Dean over the edge. He rushed to his feet and charged past Sam to swiftly that Sam barely had time to process that his brother was streaking from the motel room. 

A sickening feeling rose inside of Sam when he realized that Dean never left anywhere without being armed.

“Damnit, Dean!” Sam jumped to his feet and rushed out of the motel. His feet pounded the ground, a lump rising in his throat when he saw Dean standing in the middle of the parking lot of the motel with his pistol pointed up toward the darkened sky where explosions of fire and bright colors illuminated around them. 

Sam dove forward and forced the barrel of the pistol down before Dean could fire. That would certainly get them kicked out of the motel or arrested.

“Dean, stop!” Sam yanked the pistol from his brother’s hand and quickly unloaded it, tucking the bullets in one pocket and the pistol in another of his large sweatshirt. “Dean!”

Sam watched in horror as Dean crumpled to his knees. It had been loud inside the motel room, sure, but this was ten times worse with no cover to attempt to muffle the sound. 

On top of that, the sound of drunk cheers across the road where they were putting them off wasn’t helping things. Sam couldn’t tell if it was them or the fireworks that Dean was reacting to more in his traumatized mind. 

Sam sunk down across from Dean and reached out his hands to grasp Dean’s wrists. He attempted to pull them from Dean’s ears, but Dean only tightened his grip on them. A whimper escaped Dean’s trembling lips, body shivering. 

Another idea jumped into Sam’s mind as he pressed his hands over Dean’s hands that were forced over his ears as another layer of protection. Dean’s body stopped shuddering momentarily, giving Sam the push he needed to help haul Dean to his feet. They needed to get out from directly under the fireworks and preferably find someplace smaller and quiet for Dean to hide in for the time being. There weren’t exactly many places inside a motel room, but Sam thought that he would be able to find somewhere. 

“C’mon, Dean. Let’s get back inside,” Sam whispered as he led Dean back to their room. Dean was leaning heavily on Sam with Sam’s hands still over his ears. Sam was suddenly thankful that he was so much taller than his brother and could take his weight with relative ease. 

They headed back into the motel room with Sam locking the door behind them. It was still painfully loud, but at least they had some cover. 

“Let’s try the bathroom.” It was the only place that Sam thought may muffle the sounds even more. It wasn’t like they could hide under their beds. 

Dean didn’t appear to hear Sam, but the younger Winchester had no problem leading him into the bathroom. It was small as all motel bathrooms were, but there was just enough room for them to sit in between the shower and toilet with their backs pressed against the wall. Sam helped Dean sit down first and pressed him against the shoulder with Sam struggling beside him, careful not to crush his brother. Although, something told him that Dean may not mind. 

Sam finally lifted his hands from Dean’s ears when Dean no longer whimpered. They could still hear what was going on, but it was marginally quieter than outside and much better than standing outside. Sam was relieved. This hadn’t been the first time that the two had hid in the bathroom like this during painful flashbacks or nightmares, but it had been a while since Sam had been the one to do this for Dean. 

They sat there in silence for a bit longer with Sam listening as Dean’s breath began to even out and hands relaxed from where they had been balled into tight fists. “You okay,” Sam asked after a moment.

Dean opened his mouth to answer when another thump shook the room. Dean winced, eyes glazed. “M’fine,” he forced out.

Sam nodded slowly. “Uh huh, sure.” He had learned long ago that if Dean didn’t want to talk about something, there was no point in forcing it. He would talk to it when he was good and ready and not before. 

After another stretch of silence between the brothers with no end in sight for the fireworks, Dean finally opened his mouth to speak. “I wish they’d fucking stop,” he croaked.

“There was a time when we’d stop to watch,” Sam reminded him.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, well, times were different. I know more now. They aren’t so much fun for everyone,” he pointed out.

Sam dipped his head in agreement. “There’s more people than they realize that don’t like them: people with PTSD from war, people with autism and sensory processing disorders, those with anxiety, and just people who don’t like loud noises. I guess it’s easy not to think about when it doesn’t directly impact you.”

“People aren’t very sympathetic, are they,” Dean scoffed, wincing when he heard another rumble. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “We were the same way.”

“That was before! We’re different now,” Dean declared.

“Yeah, more traumatized.”

“I’m not traumatized. Just thought I saw something.”

Sam chose not to argue. He and Dean were both well aware of the problems that they had and what it would be considered. However, neither one wanted to pressure the other. It wasn’t like they were going to to therapy or anything. They would continue to do what they always did in these situations and that was lean on each other. It had always worked for them before.

So, they stayed there tucked in the tiny motel bathroom that stunk of mold and who knows what else. Neither one of them complained even as the firework display intensified. It even seemed to jolt Sam ever so slightly, the youngest Winchester flinching forward with eyes just as haunted as Dean’s.

Dean noticed, because how couldn’t he, and lifted his hand to rest it on Sam’s knee. He gave it a small squeeze, eyes closing as he allowed the exhaustion to weigh down on his shoulders. Sam hardly noticed when Dean slumped over with his head rested on his shoulder, beginning to snore gently.

Sleep came too irregularly for Sam to even think about nudging Dean aside. It was uncomfortable for them to sleep this way, sure, but Sam wasn’t about to complain. If this is what it took for Dean to fall asleep, so be it. It was nice to feel Dean beside him, knowing that he was sleeping peacefully for once no matter what else was going on in his mind or outside. 

“Sleep well, Dean,” Sam whispered, his own head falling on top of Dean’s. “You deserve it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone’s PTSD is different and there are different triggers. People react differently to these triggers and require different ways to be brought out. This was just my take from my own experiences and with people I know. I hope you all enjoyed it and are staying safe!


End file.
